Thursday 19th December 2019

First day of Christmas/New Year holiday.

And, what with the cold, sore shoulder, allergies and the rest, I would rather just curl up in bed, at least for the first day off, seeing as I was away the first three days of the week. But no.

All the stuff we do, the places we visit, the plants and butterflies, churches and trains are pretty much always my idea.

Yeah, I know, hard to believe, huh?

Jools sometimes likes to do things, sometimes I don't want to tag along for, sometimes I do. But back in November, the original plan when we visited the Blake exhibition was to go to Greenwich for the Moon exhibition. Circumstances meant that we didn't leave the pub until it was nearly time to go home.

I know, how could that happen?

Well, with both of us off on Thursday, we booked tickets for Moon, and planned our trip up to that London.

I didn't much feel like it, but I knew there was always a photographic opportunity and double so as near to the exhibition there is The Queen's house and the very photogenic Tulip Stairs.

OK, I'm in.

Our initial plan was to catch an early train, but study of the ticket prices showed that if we waited until arriving in London after ten, halved the ticket price. It would have cost £144 for the two of us, a hundred of that on the outward trip alone.

So we have to wait, and fritter away the morning and daylight at home, having breakfast, coffee, more coffee and taking a shower.

So, at quarter past nine we load the car with ourselves, and for me a single camera(!), well, the compact doesn't really count as I always carry that, but one DSLR with the nifty fifty attached, drive down Station Road to the, er, station.

We get our tickets, and wait on the platform, while other passengers arrived, meaning there was a good 20 of us by the time the train arrived.

It was always going to be busy, but it seems that Thursday was also the first day of the school holidays, so the train would be packed. And it was, packed, by the time we left Folkestone, standing room only. We had seats, mind.

We get off at Stratford, then walk through the gaudy glitz that is Westfield, marvelling at the glittery crap that was in the windows: who buys this tat? Well, most of the people around us, already laden down with armfuls of shopping bags.

We travel light.

At Statford Regional, we stop for a mid-morning snack of lamb samaosas from the small kiosk, then take the warm delicacies to the DLR train waiting to take us to the ultra-modern dystopia that is Canary Wharf.

Running out of Stratford, we see the Crossrail tracks dive into the ground marking where the central section begins in the east of London. Pudding Mill Lane station has been moved to allow the tunnel to be built, so we can no longer use it to snap railtours heading to East Anglia.

More's the pity.

We have front seats of the driverless train, meaning we see the tracks stretching along to the old Bryant and May match factory, before the line turns south to Poplar and Canary Wharf.

We change trains for one going to Lewisham, again taking front seats so we could enjoy the view as the tracks weave their way through massive skyscrapers, before dropping to street level for the run to the river, along which, normal people live, rather than where the super-rich work.

Through my favourite named station, Mudchute, and itno the tunnel under the river to Greenwich.

Greenwich is another world. dominated by the old hospital, observatory and other magnificent buildings, it is a tourist trap, but spacious too, and not many people sunbathing in Greenwich Park on a mild but damp Thursday morning in December.

We walk along the main road, then along to the Maritime Museum, then down steps to the exhibition area. Jools has the tickets on her phone scanned, and we're in.

The exhibition was rather good, as it examined our relationship through art and science with the moon, not just about the moon landings. It was rather fascinating, as we knew it would be.

Lots to see and enjoy, works of art, scientific documents and tools. And videos to watch and learn yet more stuff.

And it was pretty quiet, with just a few other visitors who were quiet too, and took time in looking at each piece.

After an hour, we were done, and from the museum it is a short walk to the Queen's House.

It was built by Charles 1st, before he lost his head, and designed by Indigo Jones. I mean, the King didn't build it, he paid for it. Or the country paid for it. You know what I mean.

And part of the original building was the fabulous "Tulip Stairs", which might not actually tulips, but are stairs. When I say not tulips, I mean representation of tulips.

You know.

We walk past the ice skating rink, which is blaring out Christmas songs, nearly downed out by the screaming of children and teens as they fall over and over.

We walk by to the basement entrance to the house. We are greeted, told where to go, and there is no charge, just a voluntary contribution.

I rush on hoping to see the stairs, but the modern stairs we climb up open onto a large entrance hall with a stunning black and white tiled floor.

But through the arch to the right, I saw the risers of te Tulip Stairs. I walk towards the stairwell and find I am the only one there, so I can snap away to my hearts content.

Mwah ha ha.

I snap it from the bottom, middle, with both the DSLR and compact.

Then out onto the balcony to snap the floor of the reception room from above.

We explored the adjoining rooms, all lavishly decorated and filled with paintings, including the "Armada" portrait of Elizabeth I.

I snap that too.

By now it was raining outside, so we beat retrat to a pie and mash shop we had spotted near to the station. We go in an I have beef pie and mash, Jools has chicken and mushroom pie and mash, bit covered in liquor, a sauce flavoured with parsley.

I have wanted to try proper pie and mash for ages, now I have, and well. Pie and mash was once a staple of tradition London food, with shops all over the East End, most have closed, but this one remains, and worth a visit.

Outside, it was raining harder than ever.

So we rush to the station and get a train to Bank Station in the City.

From there we catch another train to Embankment, as we were to check on whether my Granddad's medals have been mounted. We had dropped them off back in November, and heard nothing.

In among the theatres is the London Medal Centre, and after some searching, they bring out the frame, and it looks fabulous. I mean, really good.

The medals have been remounted with new ribbons, the medals polished and the photograph trimmed so it is now straight.

We were going to head to Regent Street to see the Christmas lights, but it would be even more corwded than here. So, I make an executive decision that we would head home.

Now.

Jools didn't argue.

Back to the underground, north one stop to Leicester Square and change onto the Piccadilly Line to Kings Cross.

There was time to get a snack from M&S before we go up to the platform to wait for the Dver train to pull i so we could nab a seat.

The train fills up, and is standing room only by the time it leaves. My eyes grew heavy and closed as we rattled over the points to the tunnel.

And the train did empty a little as it went through Ebbsfleet and Ashford, but when we got off back at Martin Mill, it was still pretty full.

This being Christmas and all, I suppose.

A quick blast up the hill and over the Deal road, up Station Road to home.

Phew.

I put the kettle on and Jools feeds the cats.

Phew indeed.

We feat of white chocolate cookies from M&S, dunking them in our coffee. Later we have cheese and a mince pie after I make a batch.

As it is Christmas.